Perils Pearls and Pink
by typicalRAinbow
Summary: Could Lady Penelope be getting careless? Or is the world getting that bit more dangerous... ON HOLD
1. Thunderbird 1

**A/n: Lol What can I say, old habits. I started writing this when I was nine and it's still not finished. Not a clue how to end it :D Only uploaded because ashleytisdale01 reminded me it existed in wastes of my files (the number of laptops this has been though). TV based tho' maybe a few film elements. I own nothing but the bloke I invented to get this show on the road. Rated just in case, not sure on wether I'll bother doing any paring up yet. Reviews are more then welcome, 'secialy critism. Seriously, it helps me learn...**

**Edited 10th of November 09: Fixed some spelling mistakes and fidled with the storyline. However I still need an title for this, so feel free to post any ideas, need somthing snazzy :)  
**

The Welcoming committee

Matthew Grande sighed as he surveyed the world from behind his desk. At about ten o'clock, the morning rush hour had finally subsided and, as usual, Grande was bored. His boss would be calling sometime in the near future but before then the manger would assign him with a stupidly tedious task (Grande grimaced at the thought of more, unnecessary paper work).

There were only a few guests milling around now. Ten minutes ago, Grande was being rushed of his feet what with ordering taxis and limos, dealing with complaints, helping the bellboys shift luggage from the entrance and swapping room keys around in an attempt to please everyone. Now he was able to return to his 'work' of keeping an eye on the guests. especially, the female variety.

He hadn't a name to go on. Just a description and a photograph.

Mr. Grande lazily swept his gaze over the assembled guests. He pondered as he watched a couple giggling together, on one of the many sofas in large reception area. The man was fat with thinning hair who, like many of the guests was probably some crackpot business executive. The woman, he thought, could be what he was after. But no, the appearance of this girl was wrong as always. Similar but wrong.

Her hair was blonde and her eyes were blue all right, but looking at her made it clear that this wasn't the intended. Brown mousy roots poked out around her scalp, while thick make up had been slapped on rather then painted, as it plainly showed all sorts of ache and lumps. And as for her clothes…Grande snorted.

He was after style and sophistication. This girl clearly possessed neither. Grande chuckled as he reminded himself that if she hadn't came in with the married guest under the name Mrs. Smith he would have obliged to throw her from the hotel, fake-eyelashes and all.

Mr. Grande slowly became aware that he wasn't the only one watching the happy couple.

Near the entrance, dressed in a pale brown chauffeur's uniform, his peaked-cap tucked under his arm, stood a tall man with thick yet neatly comebed silver-grey hair, deep wrinkles and a large roman nose, also watching the pair with a look that could have been disgust or jealousy in his hooded eyes. Although he looked in his fifties, the stranger seemed extremely well built and healthy for his age, unlike the fat lump of thirty-five whom Grande had just been watching.

Grande looked around the reception hall to see who the man was patiently waiting for. He knew many guests assembled here had arrived in the expensive mock-London style taxis but there were a few who'd arrived in white stretch limousines or porches, pushing past there as their drivers rushed round to open the door. Guests who always swaggered past them with out a word of thanks, demanding that the bell-boys carry all the heavy cases up to their rooms. Except one...

The night before, Grande had only been away from his desk for half an hour, running some silly errand for the manager. But when he had returned, rumours were spreading like wild fire amounts the rest of the staff.

A huge car had apperntly appeared just after Grande had left. The door had opened down; the chaffer had leapt out then aided the passenger that had stepped out after him. Then instead of heading for the hotel and sheltering, from the rain, she'd pulled out a large umbrella and stood waiting while the chaffer parked the car and retrieved four small suit cases from the boot and walked towards the entrance together, both sheltering under the umbrella as the chafer slightly staggered under the weight of the suitcases until the woman had removed a rounded metallic bag as they neared the reception.

A bellboy, named had Hassen checked them in, as there was no one else on reception. They'd then started up the stairs when Hassen had offered to carry the bags they were struggling with. He'd only been allowed to carry the smallest case (with seemed to belong to the driver) as the pair insisted they were fine with carrying the heavier bags.

When they'd approached there the lady's room, the man had the carried the last two pink cases in to the lady's room, then returned and took his own from Hassen, heading back down the stairs to his room. The woman had thanked him, pressed a some notes in to Hassen's hand, and before he'd been able to give the hotels lecture on breakfast room service etcetera, she'd hurried into her room. Hassen had then looked the note, expecting to see a couple of useless dollar bill that were often given to bellboys as tips. He'd gotten the shock of his life when he saw forty Euros in his hand! A whole month's wages!

Grande had tried to get a description of them, but every one had been too excited at the prospect of earning more in fourteen minutes from this new guests then the stingy manager paid in a month, to give him the proper information about the woman he needed. He'd tried to find Hassen to get an eyewitness account but he was no were to be found ("Probably skiving. Not he'll need the cash for a while." the other bellboys had told him).

Grande cursed his own stupidity. He hadn't been interested about the description of the driver; after all, it wasn't what he needed. But if he had, he could have put the two together. The only thing he could be certain of was which was the car they'd came in, as the striking pink Rolls-Royce in the hotel car park hadn't been there yesterday morning when he checked the records...the same Rolls-Royce that now parked outside in the waiting area. Grande was certain of it!_ I mean, _he thought to himself, _how many other pink Rolls-Royces can there be it there be in this city! And maybe, may be that chaffer by the entrance is its driver...but what about our lady-friend..._

The Chaffer seemed to be getting more and more uneasy as he waited for his passenger. He kept looking at his watch and glancing up nervously. Then eventually, he turned and walked into the main reception area. Bending over, he then whispered in some thing in the ear of one of the many potential clients.

Sitting alone in a quieter area of reception, with their back to him, the figure in a wide brimmed hat had seemed to nod their approval at the drivers suggestion before turning back to the powder compact that Grande could just make out over her shoulder. Grande practically kicked him self. How she'd managed to escape his attention before was a mystery but there was time to worry about that later. _If only she'd turn round..._Grande wished. _Maybe I'll be able to catch her reflection in the mirror. _Yet when he leaned round his desk he saw, not the Madame in question, but black surface with squiggles and straight lines. _Like a map! _

Grande's wish came true as the woman suddenly packed away the strange little compact in to her handbag, stood and strode towards the desk while her companion went out to the car park. Grande composed himself, despite his mounting excitement, hoping he'd not been caught snooping as she drew closer. Slightly above average height, slim, elegance poise and obvious taste in fine-fashion. _This could be it! Game..._

"Hello Madame. How may I help you?" He asked in his usual smiley fake welcoming voice.

"Good morning." The lady replied, and handed him two tagged door keys. "Rooms four-eight six and four-nine seven. We'll be back in the afternoon." She spoke in Queens English, not even trying to disguise it. _Probably wouldn't need to inside._

"Of course Madame. If you could just sign the guest book please…"

While she signed the guest book (with what he'd guessed would be a fake name) he discreetly noted her features. Pale, with a slight heart shaped face. Minimal make up to enhance high cheek bones. Blonde hair cut into a stylish bob that curled slightly and framed her features. _Set. Nearly? _

The final ingredient, or ingredients as the case would be, were hidden under hidden under her sun-glasses.

"And what time will you be returning?" he continued casually.

The woman lowered her sunglasses slightly to look at him over the tops of the frames with her large lashened eyes as deep blue and mysterious as the ocean. _Perfect._

"I wasn't aware there was a curfew for guests to stick to." she commented but with her accent he couldn't tell whether she was making a joke, an insult or an enquiry.

"I was just wondering whether we would be expecting you for lunch or tea, Madame" He lied, hoping she wouldn't raise a fuss. The woman however merely shrugged.

"I doubt it. We'll be returning around half-past four, if that's any use to you."

"It's very useful to me, Madame. Thank you. Have a pleasant day." She nodded her thanks and left.

"Very useful indeed."Grande grimly smiled to him self as she stepped into the pink car that had been brought around. Taking out the crumpled photo from his pocket, he re-examined it for good measure.

_And Match, my British friend…_The things he would do for work…

_If they'd only recruit the ugly ones as spies and agents, _he thought, as he pressed a hidden button underneath his desk_. They'd be less conspicuous. It's such a shame to waste a pretty face on a horrible job like this…_

Miles away in the Malaysian jungle, Grande's employer laughed a cold, cruel laugh that rang though-out his kingdom, as his plan came in to its finally came into its last stage_._

"_The English rose has been a thorn in my side for too long," _he chucked to no one in particular,_ "but now my trap set for her wither like the weed that she is!" _

Another burst of laughter echoed though his temple of destruction.

"_And with her and her body guard out of the way, I'll have no problem following her to International Rescue! Which reminds me..." _he clapped his hands for the beaded curtains to part. From behind the curtain, a bronze statue stood, its colour dancing in the flickering candlelight

_"I must remember to thank my weedy brother for his cooperation..." _He let the final bout of laugher die away as he stood before the alter, his cold eyes filling with demonic pleasure as he imagined his brother, falling, writhing with guilt and pain, their name chanted and screaming in their heads...


	2. Thunderbird 2

**Lol, finally updated! Tho' it's far to short for my liking. STILL NEEDS A SPIFFY TITLE D ...and reviews. I like reviews )**

**I own nothing but the flashie-flash back is taken from the tv ep; 30 minutes after noon. I just added thoughts and descriptions **

** Enjoy :)  
**

Trouble in paradise?

Two hours later, somewhere in the Southern Pacific, the electrics clicked and whirred inside a small island's villa, as in the eyes of the sixth portrait, LED lights flashed, along the high-pitched, transmitting signal. Jeff Tracy looked up from his paperwork.

"Go ahead, Penny." In an instant the still lifeless picture switched to the video-monitor screen, from where Penelope was sitting as stylish as ever in FAB1.

"Good afternoon Jeff." The woman smiled before getting straight to the point "I believe all the arrangements are in order. If the bait has been taken I think our trouble makers will be jail before six o'clock tonight-"

"Hmm, now about these 'arrangements' as you call them. You haven't planned anything dangerous, have you?"

"Stop worrying about me, Jeff Tracy," she frowned, only for second before recomposing her self. Jeff didn't seem to notice. "Just be ready for my call… Although..." Penelope paused as she mulled some several possibilities over in her mind, "we may need back up so, unless an emergency occurs, I'm afraid I'll need to borrow Scott in Thunderbird one at around five o'clock at the coordinates."

"Okay Penny I'll send Scott out circling the area on standby. We'll be waiting. Just, promise me you'll be careful and don-"

"My dear Jeff," interrupted Penelope "I'll be perfectly alright."

"Penny-"

"Parker and I won't even be in the area. Everything has been arranged, International Rescue only need to come into play if half the police force who armed to the teeth fail to capture a group of minor criminals-"

"Minor criminals who are also armed to the teeth."

"Oh Jeff, please, do try to relax."

"Well okay then. But report back, at say, at about sixteen-hundred hours your time if you don't need him? And you can let us know how it's going…"

"F.A.B. over and out." and with that, the portrait of London agent Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, clicked back in to place.

"Gee father, I wonder what Lady Penelope's got planned for Scott this time?" Jeff turned to see Gordon leaning against the outer door, a large smirk on his face and behind him, Virgil grinning broadly from ear to ear, both with their hair and trunks dripping from the pool and towel draped around their shoulders.

"What do you mean, son?"

"Well dad," Gordon remarked, trying to keep a strait face. "It's kind of funny how Lady Penelope only ever asks Scott for back up isn't it?"

At this, both he and Virgil spluttered into fits of laughter while Jeff shook his head in annoyance. When they managed to control their amusment, Jeff eyed them severely.

"This is getting beyond a joke now boys. You know that Penelope's work is dangerous and that if needs help she'll need it fast!"

Gordon winked at Virgil, which worried their father immensely. As the middle child, Virgil had always been the one his brothers trusted with secrets, especially Gordon who was forever hiding cakes and leftovers or laying pranks for his family to fall for…

Judging from yelling by the pool and the way Gordon quickly bolted out of the room, Said prank seem to have come into play. Scott belted up the steps hot on his trail while Tin-Tin and Alan followed laughing, falling into a giggling heap with Virgil. Jeff sighed and returned to his paper, deciding it'd probably take more then a secret organisation for his sons to grow up.

Back in FAB1, Penelope leaned back in her seat and sighed as she stared out of the glass canopy surrounding her and Parker. She was a secret agent and had been for nearly six years, yet Jeff still talked to her if it were her first training assignment, taking her first steps in to the world! _Like a child, all sheltered and gentle_.

She allowed herself a small, if somewhat, un-ladylike, little snigger at the irony of it all. _Sheltered and gentle._ She'd been described as that no more then a year ago, by an ex-secret-serviceman, an arrogant macho that had no idea what her life was really like...

She'd taken Agent Southern to hospital, under the pretence that she'd 'just been passing by' after the Tracy boys had saved him when his mission had turned distally wrong, (Parker had to end his mission for Southern by shooting down the villains heli-jet!) and then once recovered, had invited him back to Creighton-Ward Manor in order to find out, if anything, what he'd seen of International Rescue.

However it'd all been in vain. Southern had talked about his career and spying rather then the mission.

"Now that my covers been broken it's the end of my career." he'd boasted during the evening meal, "we secret agents are only able to operate by remaining incognito. But then... you wouldn't know about that." Penelope had been so stunned by the man's tone and question that she'd almost slipped up.

"I wouldn't? Oh, err no of course...I wouldn't..." she'd laughed.

_How quickly he's admitted to being an agent,_ she'd thought, _may be I can use this to my advantage..._

Penelope had then tried again to pump him for information but with little success.

"It does all sound rather fascinating," she'd said, fluttering her eye lashes. "Do tell me all about it."

"Oh I don't want to bore you with the details..."

"You wouldn't! I mean, I've always wanted to do some thing exciting, like a secret agent."

Southern had chuckled at this and lit his pipe, Blowing smoke as he'd stated in a matter-of-fact way, "Its not all glory and romance you know. It's a very tough existence."

Penelope had been sorely tempted to say that he was making him-self sound like an ageing old war general however she'd pushed the thought out of her head when he'd next spoken, but he'd been quieter, less cocky, as if filled with regrets...

"So very tough. Some one as gentle as you, why it just wouldn't suit. So sheltered and gentle it just wouldn't be you. With all due respect your just not the type...We agents walk with danger as our shadow, and death as our companion. No you just stick to being the beautiful lady you are, my dear. Being someone's agent, you even have to hide away from those you love. You never can be your self…"


End file.
